Desireless or The Book of Toffee
by Gerard Cypriako
Summary: Desireless is a collection of poems attributed to Toffee of Septarsis.
1. Prologue

Desireless is a collection of poems attributed to Toffee of Septarsis.

 **Roots**

The origins of this book date back to the third century, and Septarsis was its place of birth. One summer, a couple of poems in prose were popularised amongst the inhabitants of the septarian land. They were recited at bars, in the streets, at public venues, at homes. They were recognised as a homogenous body of art, as they were always formally introduced like this:

 _"And now, poems from the wandering poet!"_

The inhabitants would get enthusiastic whenever someone was about to recite a poem from the "Wandering Poet". Yes, the phrase generated a misconception from which the identity of the author of these poems was born. The expression "wandering poet" referred to an anonymous character who traveled and left short poems behind, for the masses to learn and delight over. This poet traveled more than the average septarian, for sure, but the phrase was not literal, so it didn't imply that all of the poems came from the head of only one being.

It could never be proven that only one septarian was the Wandering Poet. Multiple septarians declared themselves the Wandering Poet, and as soon as they took credit for the poems - having learning them all - , in another corner of Septaris, a new "official" poem was being spread.

The reason why septarians were so fond of the work of the Wandering Poet is becaue -for centuries to come- it was the only popular example of artistic expression, their only folklore.

The poems were recited by generations of grandparents to their grandchildren, alongside the legend of the Wandering Poet.

Few drawings and written documents exist from that era that showcase historical facts, but anyway, every retelling of a past is mere speculation.

But, was it a misconception? The existence of the Wandering Poet as a singular and non-fictitious figure? This is where Toffee comes in.

 **Author?**

The poems have a clear lyrical "Me" character that always talks about its life.

The events described in the Poet's poetry parallel perfectly Toffee's experience, according to testimonies of creatures that have dealt with him through the years.

Some have called the Poet's body of work "autobiographical".

But the question stands: what if the work is partially or entirely fictional? If Toffee really did write the book that now bears his name, is the writing confessional, or is he actually bluffing? Or is it all an act of artistic intentions?

Because the Wandering Poet is not a tangible figure, many poems were spread attributed to the name, but were cut from the book's publication for not being authentic. Evidence of a canonical author?

 **The Book**

The book was originally published in 1932, anonymously and independently under the "Desireless" title . A second edition was issued in 1980, with 60 more poems. That was when it was first officially refferred to as The Book of Toffee by whomever published it and edited it.

Just for the allegation alone, rather than the content of the work, the book was banned in Mewni during the reign of Queen Moon Butterfly. By then, it had already been read for decades in several dimensions across the Solar System.

Toffee himself has never affirmed or denied being responsible for "Desireless", but he once adressed the book, calling it "curious".

The history of this collection of folklore ends here.

Here you have it: the infamous, and certainly singular, book of Toffee.

—Eisoptrophie Bia, historian.


	2. Section 1: Chants

Section 1: Chants

Unforgettable

There are no parents around to stop me.

When I came to the world, my father

had long ago become bored with his existence.

He was always telling me and my mother:

"I'm going to die. I'm sure. I detect my death".

And I used to tell him:

"Then die already."

My Case

No more fingers, still.

All the oracles have been useless, to be frank,

and they've described my oddity as "sensational".

My penis hurts and vertigo's in my head.

It's the feeling of pre-free fall, of turbulence,

the thing in my mind.

Klein Blue

I've felt blue, but of a pastel, light intensity

Not a more normal royal, dark, bold splash.

Today, I've been introduced to Klein Blue.

I know I will feel such shade of colour

I can only see strength in it. Can't wait.

Music

The only human to ever impress me from this planet, the Human Earth, is Bach.

The music this man made

is the only to ever challenge me,

with its imposing temper,

its solemn improvisations,

with the treachery of its harmony.

Everything else I've had the displeasure to hear has been vapid.

I like the eternal. This music so dense will be everlasting, and I'll last along with it to prove so.


	3. Section 2: Travels

Section 2: Travels

Travel (XXX)

I don't know how to amuse myself. I have to go north.

My father didn't have any ambitions.

I want my finger. It's the most exciting situation

of my last seventeen hundred years.

Travel (I)

So far, nothing to mention.

All these mutants are still in peace.

And my prescence does not generate tension.

Nothing to this land for me.

I'm still without responsability.

Where is it that I have to head to?

It used to happen to my folks.

No entire armies, battleships,

abrasive waves and acid rain

conflict, chances to miss,

sacrifices, explosions, tits,

something accidentally interesting.

I'll keep marching.

Those that follow are coming with me.

Travel (III)

These short hunchbacks insist

that something conquerable

is at a minute's horizon.

One minute, to be precise.

Peasants and landlords

they've guided me to their Highness

across plain fields. Main feels.

Their grunts are already exasperating,

and their weird, high-pitched hums

are continuing.

One of them is stuck in my head.

I repeat it as I am in front of the Highness himself.

I don't bow down as we meet.

We understand each other almost instantly.

Travel (II)

Here I have five female snakes around me.

We're chewing bones.

Their leader is dead, they told me.

We were caught in the middle of a storm,

as I accompanied them to their new home

of their choice. It's dark, the outdoors on top of us.

We're silent, and they're especially sublime.

I've never had a moment like this,

but it's more than fine.

I've had enough privacy for a lifetime.


End file.
